


all this light

by simaetha



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Gen, reposted from tumblr
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-31
Updated: 2016-05-31
Packaged: 2018-08-27 05:37:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8389285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/simaetha/pseuds/simaetha
Summary: Prompt: "Maeglin, Lovecraftian horrors? I'm thinking of the Southern Gothic genre + Tolkien horror" - ghostofasecretary





	

Later, the people of Gondolin will look at Maeglin with mingled pity and horror when he tells them about his childhood.

_But you never saw the Sun?_ Idril says, distressed. The light from the window glints golden in her bright hair; watching it for too long will make Maeglin’s head ache, his eyes water. _That must have been terrible –_

Nan Elmoth was dark and quiet. The trees drank down the light, hungry, until the forest floor was nothing but shadow and leaf-rustle and the rich scent of mulch; the small winged things that flickered from branch to branch, the sharp-toothed animals that burrowed among the roots, were creatures of the darkness, the last remnants of the long night that covered Middle-earth until scant centuries ago.

Maeglin had lain, sometimes, among the tree-roots and the soft dead leaves, and listened to them whisper to each other. _We were here long ago_ , the trees murmured, _and we will be here long ages yet. We wait. We sink our roots into the soil. We can wait._

Sometimes, Maeglin slept; and in his dreams the shadows and leaf-mould gently crept over him, a soothing darkness from which he woke peaceful and refreshed. Even as his mother roved more and more restlessly, the light fading from her eyes as she hunted the forest, coming back with prey in bloodied hands; even as his father grew harder and sterner, folding black iron in his forge to hungry strength.

_It was what I knew_ , Maeglin tells his cousin, knowing it for an inadequate answer. _I never minded_ –

Gondolin is a city like a white rose unfurling itself to the sky; like a dream carved from the stone. Everywhere are high towers and tall windows and fountains where the water flings back sunlight like a mirror; captures moonlight’s pale glow in its ripples.

Maeglin hides his eyes; shelters in the forges, surrounded by the familiar scents of hot metal and dusty burning coal. Sleeps restlessly in the heat of the day, light running through him like a fever, his dreams a maze of glancing brightness and a terrible thing that searches at his back.

_Idril_ , Maeglin says, hesitantly –

_Cousin?_ she asks, looking over at him, sun-golden, her eyes like mirrors.

Maeglin watches a vine growing over the walls, tendrils rooting themselves in the mortar.

_Don’t you ever get tired of all this light?_ he asks her; and she frowns at him, uncomprehending.

**Author's Note:**

> original post [here](http://simaethae.tumblr.com/post/145221208687/oh-gosh-im-going-to-keep-throwing-things-into)


End file.
